What Doesn't Kill You
by Moriendi
Summary: A life can be defined by how one chooses to endure. These two kindred spirits believed that whatever didn't kill them could only make them stronger. They would rise, fall and rise again as many times as necessary. Bloodied but unbroken, they would one day become unstoppable.
1. Survival of the Sickest

_Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners. No money being made here._

* * *

**What Doesn't Kill You**

**Chapter 1 – Survival of the Sickest**

* * *

To err is to be human but Uzumaki Naruto _really_ knew how to fuck things up for himself.

He'd made plenty of mistakes in his comparatively short life but he always took something away from the experience, whether he realised it or not. His biggest—and most recent—mistake was one that had thrown his very humanity into contention and thus the question as to whether or not the old maxim even applied to him.

The root of his problems could be traced back to his third failure in the genin exams earlier that day; a dubious hat-trick that saw even Naruto, an eternal optimist, questioning his future as a ninja. Rack up enough failures and he knew that he'd eventually be dropped from the program altogether—he was already a waste of resources, as far as the instructors were concerned.

Another year in the academy as the scorned loser that couldn't even make a single _Bunshin _was not an attractive prospect so when one of his instructors offered him a lifeline he took it, sight unseen. He ignored the nagging instinct that told him breaking into the Hokage Tower and stealing a scroll of kinjutsu was tantamount to high treason. His teacher had seemed like he really wanted to help.

Why would Mizuki-sensei lie to him?

In making such a gargantuan—and retrospectively stupid—blunder, he'd learned the true nature of his existence: he was a monster, a demon masquerading in a human's skin.

It hadn't been Mizuki but Umino Iruka, his other teacher, who'd happened upon him first. Whatever shock the chunin might have felt at learning his dumbass student had taught himself a B-Ranked kinjutsu within a couple of hours was quickly superseded by anger at the boy's naïve recklessness. Naruto had gone on to explain the makeup test to the increasingly pensive man. Before Iruka could do anything more than smack the spiky blond boy upside the head, Mizuki had appeared and attacked them both.

Like a typical egomaniac, Mizuki explained that it was all an elaborate ruse so that he might take the forbidden scroll of kinjutsu for himself—and like a sadistic prick, he rubbed a little more salt into Naruto's proverbial wounds, exulting in his emotional turmoil.

"_You are the demon that attacked Konoha! You are the Kyubi no Yoko!"_

"_Didn't you ever wonder why everyone hates you so much?!"_

"_We'd never let you be a ninja, you dumb fucking demon!"_

"_You were lied to! The Sandaime and everyone else knew! We just let you flounder around in the dark like the stupid little piece of shit that you are!"_

"_Iruka's the same! You killed his parents and he hates you for it! He hates you just as much as the rest of us!"_

All he could do was run; he didn't have the skill for anything else. As conflicted as he was, Iruka-sensei told him to run and protect the scroll even if it cost him his life—so he did; not so much because of the order but because he wanted to get away from it all. Deception upon deception took its toll on his frayed mind: years of lies overlaid on his teachers using the_ Henge no Jutsu_ on themselves to try and trick each other and, in Mizuki's case, him too. He didn't know who or what he could believe anymore.

He wasn't able to outrun them in the end. Mizuki caught up easily and even Iruka kept pace despite his injuries—he'd been caught in Mizuki's sneak attack and then taken a giant shuriken in the back while shielding his student. Naruto was always exceptionally good at escape and evasion—he'd had years of practice with his pranks but this was different: he was exhausted, emotionally fragile and at least one of his pursuers was coming after him with the intent to kill.

Naruto sat crouched amongst the root system of an old cedar, his vision blurred by unshed tears—he'd promised himself he wouldn't let anyone see him cry ever again, wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He could hear Iruka and Mizuki talking in a small clearing not far away; he supposed it was only a matter of time before they decided to team up and come after him together.

"I still can't see why you'd go out of your way to protect that little monster, Iruka," Mizuki sneered. "Shoulda just let me kill him. He'd just stab you in the back first chance he got."

"No doubt," the scarred chunin conceded. "That's about the sort of thing I'd expect of a demon."

_Goddammit,_ Naruto thought angrily, clutching the scroll tighter to himself. _They're all the same, even Iruka-sensei. They're all the fucking same!_

"Lies, manipulation, violence against their comrades... I'd say you're well on your way yourself, Mizuki," Iruka continued drily, slumping back against the bole of the tree behind him. "But you're no demon either, you're just a sad little man... and a worthless traitor. Same way Naruto is just a kid... a loud, boneheaded pain in my arse sometimes but a kid all the same."

"Oh, this should be a laugh," Mizuki said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Okay, Iruka, regale me. Entertain me. Get it all off your chest and then die with a clear conscience... or whatever. Tell us all about your newfound love for the Kyubi."

Iruka thought back to the conversation he'd had with the Hokage that afternoon; the parallels between Naruto and himself were all there and he knew he'd just ignored them, blinded by his own grief and resentment towards the beast that attacked the village and killed his family and friends. They were both just lonely orphans, so desperate for attention that they didn't care where it came from or for what reason; playing the joker was easy and it was still better than being nobody at all.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Iruka grunted painfully, his injuries throbbing. "Yes, he can be an idiot and no, he's not the most talented kid I've ever taught... but that's never stopped him. He gets knocked down and just gets right back up again. He's taken our hate and never returned it. He mightn't be a very good ninja but he's strong anyway; he's got a strength of character that you obviously can't see. He's not a demon or a monster, he's just Uzumaki Naruto."

"...You sanctimonious _fuckhead_," Mizuki snarled. "Now you wanna pretend that you're best buddies? That you never hated him and it was all just a misunderstanding? Just forgive and forget everything? You really are fucking pathetic, Iruka, and you are totally full of _shit!_"

"People change," Iruka answered, glaring defiantly at his former friend. "You should know, traitor. The only thing I regret is not telling Naruto to his face."

"Or maybe you're just fooling yourself like the idiot you are," Mizuki snapped back. "Who knows, who cares? And you know what? Fuck it. I was gonna deal with you later but after _that_ little episode, I really just wanna kill you now."

To emphasise the point, Mizuki drew another of his oversized shuriken, it's sharpened edges glinting in the dappled moonlight. He started his windup and charged forward across the clearing, using the weapon as an improvised buzzsaw and fully intent on splitting Iruka in two.

All true shinobi knew that they walked the knife-edge between life and death; they dealt in death and had to expect it in turn. At peace with himself at that moment, Iruka had resigned himself to meeting the Shinigami—he'd just never expected the Angel of Death to appear as a blond boy in an orange jumpsuit that would announce himself with a flying dropkick.

Mizuki was thrown wildly off-course by the orange blur smashing feet-first into his side, his shuriken loosed and sent flying off into the trees. He hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum and getting a mouthful of loam in the process. When he came to a stop, he glared back over his shoulder with all the hate he could muster.

"You really shouldn't have done that," he spat at the downright suicidal brat. "You're so fucking _dead_."

"Don't touch him," Naruto said evenly, glaring right back at the silver-haired chunin with equal hatred, the sort of hate that no child should be capable of. "You lay a hand on Iruka-sensei... and I'll kill you."

"You idiot!" Iruka berated from behind his timely rescuer, not that it would do either of them much good now. "I told you to run away! Why did you come back?!"

"...Got my second wind," Naruto replied simply.

"That eager to get your arse killed, huh?" Mizuki asked with a dark chuckle. "Fine by me. Saves me having to hunt you down later, demon. I'll kill you both right now and be done with this shit."

"Fuck you." As he stood between Mizuki and Iruka, both older shinobi were surprised to find the usually buoyant ninja cadet was actually managing to exude a mild killing intent. It was nothing debilitating—just a shiver down their spines—but it did speak of his intentions. "It won't be that easy. Believe it."

There was a very brief moment where Mizuki felt a shadow of doubt, wondering if he really was going to be dealing with a vengeful demon as he'd so vehemently claimed. It passed quickly and degenerated into a fit of mocking laughter when Naruto reached into his equipment pouch and withdrew just a handful of shuriken, palming them off to hold three in each hand.

"That's it?!" the traitorous chunin crowed. "Is that all you got?!"

To his credit, Naruto didn't allow himself to be provoked despite his inherently short temper and didn't throw his shuriken haphazardly—he didn't throw them at all. He held them between each of his fingers and made a cruciform handseal. "Don't blink; you might miss it. _Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!_"

Before either Mizuki or Iruka could comprehend what had happened, the forest clearing was inundated with orange-clad carbon copies. They were everywhere: standing in the clearing, the treeline, even the trees themselves—an army of one thousand Shadow Clones, each one sporting an improvised pair of shuriken knuckledusters. He knew he could control them mentally but Naruto took no small amount of relish in ordering his private army forward with a sweeping gesture and a smirk.

Mizuki's screams died quickly. The clones charged him down en masse, striking and dispelling as their shuriken drove back into their own hands, only for another to take their place. When the smoke cleared and all was said and done, only the original Naruto was left standing. Under the onslaught, Mizuki's face and throat were reduced to nothing more than gory craters, his flesh and clothing hanging off of him in bloody tatters. Iruka had to wince at the particularly brutal attention the clones seemed to have paid to the traitor's groin.

"...Whoops," Naruto said, more to himself than anything. "Guess I overdid it. Meh."

As a ninja, Iruka was quite adaptable and got over his shock in good time. He noted that Naruto really didn't sound contrite at all—not that he had any reason to be, having just killed a traitor to Konohagakure. The fact that it was his first kill would no doubt sink in later. He also noted that while Naruto wasn't especially bloodied, he'd obviously gotten a few good hits in himself. If either of them had looked closer, they'd have noticed that the cuts between his fingers from the shuriken blades had already healed.

"You okay, Iruka-sensei?" Naruto asked, drawing Iruka's attention. "Still in one piece? Back bone still connected to the neck bone?"

"Yeah, Naruto, I'm okay. A little beaten up but I'll live," he sighed. "Thanks to you."

Naruto just scratched the back of his head, embarrassed at the praise, and offered him a smile that was made all the more vulpine by the whiskers on his cheeks. "Anytime, Iruka-sensei. That jackass had it coming."

"You sure are full of surprises, kid," Iruka chuckled tiredly, while forcing himself to his feet. "Now come here."

Naruto put his bloody shuriken away and came trotting over as instructed.

"Close your eyes."

Naruto gave his teacher an askance look. "...You're gonna hit me again, aren't you?"

"Would you just do what you're told, Naruto?" Iruka asked, feeling a strange mix of exasperation and pride towards his wayward student. "Just this once?"

Naruto sighed but did close his eyes, fully expecting another clip in the ear.

It never eventuated.

"...Alright, open your eyes."

The first thing Naruto noticed was that Iruka seemed genuinely happy about something. The second was the fact that he was no longer wearing his hitai-ate. Then there was the fact that Iruka was holding Naruto's goggles. He raised a hand to his forehead where his eyewear usually sat, only to feel cold, engraved metal instead.

"Congratulations, Naruto."

With the dexterity of a trained ninja, Iruka had replaced Naruto's goggles with his own Konoha forehead protector without the boy even noticing. Realisation dawned and Naruto, speechless for once, expressed his gratitude by propelling himself forward and tackling Iruka in a hug.

"Ow! Okay, okay," Iruka both laughed and groaned as his injuries were aggravated. "Let's get that scroll back home before you kill me with hugs or something."

Naruto at least had the decency to look sheepish.

**II**

Contrary to popular consensus, Mitarashi Anko was not a slut. She was not so insatiable that she needed to take a man (or three) to bed with her every night. Nor had she ever masturbated with any species of reptile; Anko considered herself a very open-minded person but even she had to draw the line somewhere—somewhere around bestiality. She hadn't gone to any great pains to contradict or disprove the rumours about her promiscuity (or lack thereof) because she just didn't give a flying fuck about public opinion.

Just because a dumb civilian imbued with the potvaliancy of one too many saké thought he was going to get laid tonight didn't mean it was going to happen.

"You know, that fishnet looks very becoming on you," he slurred. Not even the liquor could mask the halitosis. "But if I was on you, I'd be cumming, too."

"Not happening," she declined outright. "Go back to your dumbass friends before you embarrass yourself."

The poor idiot had doubtlessly been egged on by his equally drunk and stupid buddies; they hadn't exactly been quiet about it. Not that Anko particularly minded the attention but, for such a pathetic pickup line alone, he was lucky he didn't already have a dango skewer in his eyeball. It was only ever the civilian populace—most shinobi knew better.

"Hey now, that's not nice," he persisted, refusing to take the hint. "Listen, sweetheart, the word of the night is _legs_. So let's go back to my place and spread the word."

"Dream on," Anko grunted from her seat at the bar. "Actually, no, don't. Keep me out of your diseased grey matter."

"Oi, now you're just being a bitch." When things didn't go his way, he started getting annoyed and clapped a forceful hand on Anko's shoulder. "Stop playing hard to get. It's gonna happen either way. C'mon, you know you want to."

It was with a casual disdain that Anko snatched the offending hand from her shoulder and held it up in a gooseneck wristlock, eliciting a pained yelp from the deluded cretin. Bad enough that he'd thought she would be an easy fuck and couldn't handle the rejection but then he actually thought that laying a hand on one of Konoha's deadliest kunoichi was somehow a good idea—it would have been funny if it weren't so pathetic.

With the hand that wasn't occupied with small joint manipulation, she finished another stick of dango and held up the skewer. "Try that again and this is going in your dickhole. You get me?"

She didn't wait for a response and casually shoved him away with a strength that belied her feminine stature, sending him toppling to the floor and quite possibly breaking his wrist. Just the occupational hazard of being an asshole, as far as Anko was concerned.

Without a second thought, she poured herself another measure of saké and knocked it back in one hit. She sighed as the liquor burnt a pleasant trail down her throat and then poured another one. Despite the image she'd cultivated for herself as a vile, sadistic woman, Anko didn't eat baby hearts and drink orphan tears—she preferred dango and saké. She was perfectly content to spend her evenings sitting at the end of the bar drinking quietly and absently digging a kunai into the countertop.

She'd heard the commotion kicked up by the theft of one of the Hokage's kinjutsu scrolls but Anko wasn't going out of her way to get involved unless someone made it a direct order. She knew who the culprit was—they were practically forming a lynch mob to find him—but if a patrol of chunin couldn't find the kid, then perhaps he deserved to be a ninja more than the barking idiots realised.

Anko picked up the last skewer from the plate in front of her and pulled off one of the sweet dumplings with her teeth. She chewed contemplatively, savouring the flavour. She of course knew who the kid was; pretty much everyone from her generation knew who Uzumaki Naruto was, _what_ he was. Although Anko rather doubted that as many of them actually knew his name.

Anko would admit, if only to herself, that she could empathise with the poor kid: he'd had a pretty lousy time of it growing up in Konoha around people who would naturally hate, ostracise and distrust him. She knew what that felt like but that was just life and in the words of one of Anko's favourite songs, _life's a piece of shit, when you look at it_.

She'd seen him around the village and, more than just a sense of solidarity, Anko had to admire the little hellion's defiant, never-say-die attitude. She had to wonder if he really was as hopeless a ninja as he was made out to be; anyone who could break into the Hokage Tower and actually leave without getting caught had to have some degree of talent—to say nothing of him painting the Hokage Monument in broad daylight or any of his other pranks and ensuing manhunts.

He'd obviously been looking for attention and Anko supposed that she could have at least talked to him once or twice if she'd really wanted to—his pranks were pretty damn funny after all—but that was just too bad. Life could be a real bitch and everybody had twenty-twenty hindsight. No sense lamenting the path not taken.

Her interrogator's mind was more interested in how an academy student even knew about the forbidden scroll to begin with, let alone its location. She just hoped the Hokage wouldn't be too harsh on the little blond brat and that she wouldn't have to see him in her capacity as a torture and interrogation specialist. It would be such an unfortunate waste of potential.

An errant thought came to mind then and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

She finished her dango as she mulled it over. Coming to a decision, she settled up for the night and hopped off her barstool. She made a point of stepping on the crotch of the horny mouthbreather—who'd fallen and subsequently passed out on the floor in a drunken sprawl—as she left the bar. If she really was going to go through with what she had planned, she'd need to be sober for it. With the pseudo-insight that only came with being half-cut, she hoped she wouldn't change her mind in the morning.

**III**

In the past, Naruto had always enjoyed those rare instances where he got to spend time with the Sandaime Hokage. The old man was what he imagined a grandfather to be like: stern but kind and always reeking of tobacco smoke and library aldehyde. He wasn't honestly expecting their next meeting to go quite so well.

Sensing his unease, Iruka placed an encouraging hand on Naruto's shoulder. Naruto had been prepared to return the stolen scroll and face the consequences by himself but after the first response team patched up Iruka's injuries—and pronounced Mizuki dead at the scene—his academy sensei had insisted on coming along to explain the situation to the Hokage himself. Naruto was grateful for that.

The Hokage's office was quite barren in terms of decoration except for the quartet of portraits depicting the four Hokage that had served in office since Konoha's inception and several wall scrolls. The semicircular desk in front of the window looked like it had been built into the floor. Sarutobi Hiruzen, Sandaime Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato, was waiting for them as they entered.

"It's about time, you two," the old man said with an ironic smile. "You young people, keeping an old man up past his bedtime. I swear, so inconsiderate."

Naruto figured he might as well get it over with. "Old Ma—"

A firm squeeze on his shoulder made him rephrase himself.

"Hokage-sama," he tried again, the words of reverence feeling foreign to him. "I'm returning the kinjutsu scroll that I... I stole. I'm really sorry, Old Man... Hokage-sama."

"Apology accepted, Naruto," Sarutobi said easily and somewhat dismissively. "I think we have more important matters to discuss, yes? Come, you two, sit down. Tea?"

Naruto had imagined a number of ways his meeting with the Hokage could have played out. Each scenario generally involved ranting, raving, flying kunai and perhaps a fireball or two. None of them had involved Sarutobi waving it off and offering him a cup of tea.

"Hokage-sama," Iruka began, after taking his own seat across from their august leader. "I feel I should clarify the situation; Naruto was tricked into stealing the scroll. My former colleague Mizuki revealed himself to be a traitor. He was subsequently eliminated."

"I'm aware of that," the Hokage said, confirming that there was very little he didn't seem to know about the goings on of his village. "Congratulations on graduating, by the way, Naruto."

"Piece of cake, Old Man!" Naruto exclaimed, back to his endearingly disrespectful self. "I told ya, I'm just _allowing_ you to keep my seat warm until I become Hokage!"

"Well, it all worked out in the end," Sarutobi went on. "And the _forbidden_ scroll served its purpose nicely."

"Served its purpose, Hokage-sama?" Iruka asked quizzically. "I'm not sure I follow."

"It's quite simple," Sarutobi explained, quietly enjoying the duo's looks of confusion. "The scroll is a ruse. It does contain some advanced jutsu, such as the _Kage Bunshin_, but nothing _strictly_ forbidden. I wouldn't allow any true kinjutsu to be transcribed and left out in the open, even in my own home. Give me some credit."

It did make a certain kind of sense, when Iruka thought about it. If kinjutsu was so innately dangerous, it would be rather foolish to leave it lying around for any idiot to find. He looked sidelong at Naruto—case in point. If there were any real records, they were no doubt locked away somewhere safe where nobody could touch them.

"So what was the point, gramps?" Naruto asked, squinting in thought.

"The point, Naruto, was to weed out any traitors who were enticed by the promise of _forbidden power_," Sarutobi explained with a wry smile. He proceeded to roll out the scroll across his desk. "If you'd read beyond the first few entries, all you'd have found would be some rather nice haiku. Shall I read you one?"

_The morning paper_

_Harbinger of good and ill_

_I step over it_

_Crafty old geezer,_ was all Naruto could think.

"So you see, Naruto, if you hadn't eliminated Mizuki, the Hunter Corps would have done so eventually. I'm quite satisfied with the end result in any case," Sarutobi said. "But we've gotten sidetracked, haven't we? No doubt you have questions, Naruto."

"Yeah," Naruto agreed sombrely. "Something like that. Something about me being a demon."

"I knew this would happen eventually," the Hokage sighed regretfully. "Alright, Naruto, no more beating around the bush. Let me be perfectly honest with you right now: you are _not_ the Kyubi... but you do _contain_ it. It was sealed into you by the Yondaime Hokage the night you were born."

"But... we were taught that the Yondaime _killed_ the Kyubi," Naruto countered. "It was a lie?"

"We're shinobi. Sometimes we have to deal in secrets and lies," Sarutobi told him. "It's all in the semantics: the Kyubi was _defeated _but not killed. I'm not sure anyone could truly kill a Biju, not even the Yondaime, so he sealed it instead at the cost of his own life. Even I'm not entirely sure how he did it; the Yondaime was a genius when it came to fuinjutsu."

"...So there's a demon inside of me," Naruto recapped, "and that's why everyone hates me?"

"Not everyone, Naruto, even if it might seem that way sometimes," Sarutobi tried to assure him. "If it's any consolation at all, the Yondaime himself thought of you as a hero. He wanted everyone to see you the same way he did."

"Yeah, nah," Naruto scoffed bitterly. "Apparently not."

"No, we were mistaken in that regard," the Hokage admitted, though it pained him to do so. "I was forced to pass a law that forbade anyone from speaking of that night and of your identity. I especially didn't want your generation to know. I had hoped it would allow you to grow up with some semblance of normality."

"Well, that would explain why nobody ever told me _why_ they hated me so much," Naruto grumbled. "Why I was always alone. Makes a bit more sense now. Cool story."

"I know it's hard to accept, Naruto, and I'm sure you're feeling betrayed right now," Sarutobi said, gauging the boy's reaction. "But haven't you always talked about becoming Hokage and...?"

"And making people acknowledge me," Naruto finished the thought sullenly. "What of it?"

"What the Yondaime did, what I did... that is part of what it means to be Hokage, Naruto: to make the hard choices, no matter how painful, to put the wants and needs of the many ahead of your own." Sarutobi explained to him. "I would have liked nothing more than to coddle you like my own grandson but I knew it would have done you a disservice in the end. Your life has been hard and it will get harder as a shinobi but you will be stronger for it. You will endure, I know you will."

"Yeah, you're damn right I will," Naruto said, puffing his chest up. "Ain't nothing gonna keep Uzumaki Naruto down! Dattebayo!"

"Oh God," Iruka groaned beside him. "Don't do that."

Sarutobi chuckled to himself. _So much like his mother, it's frightening._

"But..." Naruto continued seriously. "What about my parents?"

"What about them, Naruto?" Sarutobi asked warily, rather dreading the answer.

"Where were they in all this?" he asked, quickly becoming more forceful the more he spoke. "You talked about you and the Yondaime and the Kyubi. What about my parents? Did they die? Did they abandon me? Where _were_ they?! _Who_ were they?!"

"Calm down, Naruto," Iruka tried to placate him. At some point, he'd risen from his seat and slapped his hands down on the desk. "Sit down. Come on, that's no way to act in front of Hokage-sama."

"It's quite alright, Iruka," Sarutobi assured him. "After all, what orphan doesn't want to know about their parents?"

Iruka took the double meaning: he at least had some memory of his parents—Naruto obviously didn't.

Sarutobi sighed wearily. He could see the desperation in Naruto's eyes; his faith had been shaken and the old Hokage knew that another lie—particularly one of this magnitude—could cause irreparable damage. He'd have to tread very carefully. "...Iruka... leave us. You're dismissed."

"No, Old Man," Naruto demurred stubbornly. "Anything you wanna tell me, you can tell Iruka-sensei, too."

It was heartening to see the boy still so quick to trust; a little naïve but still heartening.

_So obstinate, just like his mother,_ Sarutobi mused. "Very well. It is technically your choice, Naruto, but this does not leave this room, am I understood? What I am about to tell you both is an S-Class state secret."

He received two nods to the affirmative. Unseen by the pair sitting across from him, Sarutobi channelled some chakra into a seal etched into the underside of his desk. As a result, a concentric spiderweb of neon blue seals lit up around the room for just a second before fading back into nothingness.

"A gift from the Yondaime," he explained at their bemused expressions. "A means to temporarily soundproof the office. I told you he was a genius. That should tell you just how serious a matter this is."

The pot of tea had steeped long enough by then. Sarutobi poured three cups, offering one to each of his guests. The distinctive aroma of Gyokuro green tea rose to mingle with the scent of stale tobacco smoke.

"Alright... listen well, Naruto," Sarutobi said finally. "You are what is known as a Jinchuriki. It's not an especially flattering term but it is apt: whatever life you might have lead was sacrificed to contain the Kyubi no Yoko. Others may have tried but there have only ever been three vessels strong enough to contain the demon. They all came from the Uzumaki clan."

Naruto listened with rapt attention for once. Not even he wanted to interrupt, especially since he was finally getting answers to questions that had gnawed at him for over a decade.

"The Kyubi was contained by passing it from one Jinchuriki to another: the first was Uzumaki Mito, the Shodai Hokage's wife. Second was Uzumaki Kushina, your mother. Finally, there was you, Uzumaki Naruto." Sarutobi paused to sip his tea, seemingly lost in his own memories. "...It was no mere coincidence that the Kyubi attacked on the night you were born, Naruto. I'm not clear on the details, all I know is that there were complications during childbirth. The end result was your mother's seal breaking and the Kyubi getting loose."

"So... it really was my fault?" Naruto asked quietly, a leaden weight settling in his stomach. "If I hadn't been born..."

"Idiot," Iruka said, smacking him in the head. "Don't talk like that. That's bull and you know it."

"Iruka is right, Naruto. Never blame yourself and never forget the service you're doing for Konoha, even now. If not for you, this village would be nothing more than a necropolis right now," Sarutobi reassured him. "It was all they could do. Sadly, your mother passed away that night and so another vessel had to be chosen. Both she and your father knew it had to be you; only you would be strong enough to shoulder the burden."

"So then the Yondaime sealed the stupid fox into me?" Naruto queried, sipping his own tea. "What about my dad?"

"Your father, Namikaze Minato, was the one to perform the sealing ritual."

With a speed that proved just why he'd been chosen to take up the Hokage mantle again, Sarutobi snatched his hat from atop the desk and held it up as a shield against two high-pressure torrents of expelled green tea—very expensive green tea.

"My what?!" Naruto choked. "You mean the Yondaime was...?!"

"Your father, yes," the wizened old man confirmed, rather enjoying the twin looks of shock. "I had meant to keep it a secret until I was certain you could understand. I didn't want you resenting the man you've always idolised. Your father didn't want this life for you but he knew he could never ask another to give up their own child. He believed in you."

Naruto felt as if he'd be perfectly justified in throwing an almighty tantrum right then, if he really wanted to—all the lies and deception, all the years of hatred and exclusion, all because of his father. He could storm off and play the victim and wait for someone to come lavish attention on him and beg his forgiveness but that just wasn't his style.

Uzumaki Naruto didn't brood like a little pussy.

Thinking about it, he realised that he didn't actually hate his father for what he'd done. He understood he must have been faced with an unfathomably difficult decision—but that didn't mean he wouldn't sock the man in the face if he ever got the chance in the afterlife.

"I have something I want to give you, Naruto," Sarutobi continued, opening a drawer in his desk and retrieving something from within. He handed the reeling boy a framed photograph. "Consider this my graduation present to you."

Naruto stared at the photograph with misty eyes. He recognised the first figure; spiky blond hair and vivid blue eyes so much like his own and a famous white coat decorated with red flames: Namikaze Minato, the Yondaime Hokage and his father. The second figure was a heavily pregnant woman with long carmine hair and violet eyes, wearing a sleeveless white blouse under a green maternity dress: his mother, Uzumaki Kushina. They both looked so happy there, frozen in time. The vista behind them was the one Naruto knew as that seen from atop the Hokage Monument.

He ran his fingers over his mother's face, the only way he'd ever be able to touch her now. "Heh... I have her eyes... her chin... her face."

"Indeed you do, Naruto. Indeed you do," Sarutobi agreed with a fond smile. Despite having his father's eye and hair pigmentation, Naruto's facial structure was distinctly Uzumaki. "I hope this will suffice, Naruto. Your father did leave you some jutsu scrolls but they were highly advanced. You'll have to prove yourself competent enough for them. They both wanted you to make your own way in life, not live in their shadows. I'll tell you this, though: your parents loved you very much and they would be proud of you."

Back to being a rambunctious child, Naruto vaulted the desk between them and tackled Hiruzen in an almost bone-breaking hug. "It's more than enough, Old Man. It's more than enough."

"...He seems to have a habit of doing that," Iruka noted with a smirk, killing the mood somewhat. "I wonder if it could be weaponised? _Crash-tackle no Jutsu_, maybe?"

"Oh, you suck, Iruka-sensei!"

"Now remember, Naruto," Hiruzen said, even as he reciprocated the show of affection, "S-Class secret. You have to keep this to yourself until you're much older. I'm sure you're not the type to get by on another's coattails. I'm trusting you with this."

Naruto returned to his chair and made a zipping motion across his mouth in response.

"Does this mean I'm going to have to call you Namikaze Naruto from now on?" Iruka asked good-naturedly. "Or worse, Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto? Damn, that's a mouthful."

Before Hiruzen could object, Naruto beat him to it. "No way! I'm an Uzumaki, one of the only ones to ever hold back the Kyubi no Yoko! I'm Uzumaki Naruto and don't you forget it!"

"At that volume, I doubt I could," Iruka laughed.

They bid their farewells to the Hokage shortly after—after Naruto took a mercifully quiet moment to digest this new information—and made their way out into the darkened streets of Konoha. It was already past midnight, judging by the position of the moon.

"Long day, huh, Naruto?" Iruka asked conversationally.

"Hell of a day, Iruka-sensei."

"You okay?" he asked seriously as they walked. "That was a lot to take in all at once."

Naruto took a deep breath of the cool night air and turned his gaze to the sky. "Yeah, I'm good, sensei. I feel... good."

There would be more questions later on down the line, he was sure, but for now he was content. He finally had resolution to the doubts that had plagued him his whole life, doubts that he'd always kept to himself; his parents hadn't hated him and they hadn't abandoned him because of what he was—he had been loved, if only briefly before their deaths. With that chapter of his life squared away, he felt like he could really start looking to the future.

The child in him still dearly wanted to rub his parentage in the faces of everyone who'd ever mistreated him but the ninja in him was better than that. He had promised the Hokage he would keep it secret—and Uzumaki Naruto never went back on a promise.


	2. Natural Selection

_Disclaimer: All properties belong to their respective owners. No money being made here._

* * *

**What Doesn't Kill You**

**Chapter 2 – Natural Selection**

* * *

It was always nice when things just worked out—even more so when expectations were exceeded.

Anko had awoken the next morning—without a hangover as planned—pleased to find that she hadn't in fact changed her mind; the inspiration may have come in a slightly drunken haze but the desire hadn't waned under the cold light of day. Her first stop after her morning constitutional had been Konoha's torture and interrogation department; she'd been equally pleased to find that Uzumaki Naruto's name was not on the whiteboard and thus he didn't have an _appointment—_that could have put a wrinkle in her plans otherwise.

Speaking with one of the department heads revealed that not only would there be no charges laid against Naruto, he'd also been belatedly promoted to genin. That was good for him, she supposed, but bad for her if she procrastinated too long. She also learned just how the kinjutsu scroll incident had been resolved: with Uzumaki Naruto using Shadow Clones—_one thousand_ Shadow Clones—to dismantle the real traitor and literally reduce him to bloody rubble. Anko would have dismissed it as a gross exaggeration but for the fact that Morino Ibiki was a man who, by merit of his profession, dealt in nothing but cold, hard facts. If he said it happened, it happened.

She could barely contain her manic smile at learning the kid had thought to duplicate a handful of shuriken alongside the clones themselves and use them as bladed knuckledusters—a stroke of pure, devilish genius.

The natural course of events lead to Anko seeking an audience with the Hokage and it was mid-morning by the time she got in. She didn't bother to mince her words; she spoke candidly and presented the most articulate and pragmatic argument she could, considering how spontaneous the decision had actually been. Sarutobi initially looked like he was having an auditory hallucination—he wasn't even seventy yet; he was too young to start dementing—as if her request really was that outlandish.

Much of their conversation revolved around the Sandaime Hokage picking her brain, attempting to discern any untruth or ulterior motive to her proposal. Anko supposed she could understand his incredulity; she'd never openly expressed any interest in Konoha's Jinchuriki before. While she did find him intriguing and did empathise to some extent, that didn't mean she'd ever felt compelled to rush out and adopt him.

Anko answered all of the Hokage's questions as truthfully as possible—anything less was just an insult to Sarutobi's vast intelligence.

"...You're entirely serious about this, aren't you?" the Hokage asked at length, puffing at his pipe. "Now we're getting somewhere. Do tell."

"It was a recent decision, Hokage-sama, but I stand by it. I was collating what I knew about him last night and it didn't seem to add up; too many inconsistencies," Anko explained. "Then this morning I went down to Torture and Interrogation, half-expecting to see him there in a cell after that clusterfu—uh, incident last night. Since he wasn't, I asked around. What I learned sort of _cemented_ my decision. I think he has some serious potential. Call it an epiphany."

"Interesting," Sarutobi mused, exhaling a dense plume of blue-grey smoke. "I just have one more question for you, Anko, if you would indulge me: have you ever actually met Uzumaki Naruto?"

"Not personally, no," Anko admitted, feeling for all the world like she'd broken the deal before it had even been made. She talked a good game but she'd never spoken two words to the brat himself. "I've just seen him around but I—"

"Then you're in for a treat," Sarutobi interrupted, his weathered features creasing in a cryptic smile. "I expect we'll be seeing him any minute now. If he agrees to this, he's all yours."

The Hokage was still smoking his pipe leisurely and Anko was doing her best impression of a praying mantis—presumably while thinking about the many brutalities she could inflict upon a Jinchuriki who used Shadow Clones in bulk—when the topic of their discussion announced himself with a knock on the door, even as he let himself in.

"'Sup, Old Man?" Naruto greeted with fond irreverence. "You wanted to see me for something?"

"Ah, Naruto, right on time," Sarutobi said amiably. "We were just talking about you."

"Whatever it is, I didn't do it," the whiskered blond defended automatically. "I have an alibi."

Sarutobi was glad to see that the previous night's conversation hadn't seemed to have affected him adversely; he was still the same exuberant, disrespectful, orange dynamo that he always was. For that, the Sandaime was inclined to let Naruto's total lack of decorum slide—for now.

"I'll just assume that's your broad-spectrum response," the Sandaime replied drily. "Anyway, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about but since you're here, let me first introduce you to someone: Uzumaki Naruto, meet Mitarashi Anko. Anko, meet Naruto."

Naruto turned his attention to the rather exotic woman standing before the Hokage: violet hair tied up in a splayed ponytail and ophidian brown eyes that were currently fixed on him, dressed provocatively in a mesh bodysuit and orange miniskirt under a tan trenchcoat. Her hitai-ate identified her as a Konoha kunoichi but what stood out foremost about her in his mind—aside from her tits—was the decidedly predatory grin she was directing at him. He really thought he'd remember crossing somebody like her but, for the life of him, he couldn't place the woman.

"The hell's all this about, Old Man?" Naruto asked guardedly. "I told ya, I didn't do anything!"

"I think you've rattled him, Anko," Hiruzen chuckled. "That was quick, even for you. That's the problem with first impressions..."

"Meh. Might as well put the fear of me into him now," she replied with a careless shrug. "Behavioural modification is a hell of a thing."

"Hey!" Naruto interrupted, arms crossed over his chest. "Am I missing something here?"

"Talking about you, not to you."

"Alright, that's enough," the Hokage mediated. "Anko, I'll let you take it from here. Play nice."

Anko turned the full brunt of her attention towards Naruto and he instinctively took half a step back.

"I don't like people who take forever to say nothing, kid, so I'll give it to ya straight," Anko said bluntly. "I want to make you my apprentice."

"So it's _not_ that I've ever paint-bombed your house or something?" Naruto sought to clarify, seemingly missing the point. "Lucky, I—wait... what?! Apprentice?!"

"And there's the punchline," Anko said with an amused smirk. "That's what I said, Needle Noggin: apprentice. Don't make me repeat myself."

The Sandaime had been interested to see how these two strong and rather similar personalities would interact when they first met and so far it was proceeding much the way he'd expected. He'd resolved not to interfere until the point where Naruto inevitably became suspicious; given recent experience, it stood to reason that he would harbour a certain cynicism towards any more supposed random acts of kindness—he was learning from his mistakes.

The fact that Naruto couldn't personally detect any lie from the exotic kunoichi was more a commentary on his own perceptivity rather than her sincerity. He looked to the Hokage for confirmation; he still trusted the old man and held his opinion in high regard.

Sarutobi nodded and offered the leery genin an encouraging smile. "It's a tremendous honour to be offered an apprenticeship, Naruto. It doesn't happen very often."

"Of course, if you don't _want_ to train with me one-on-one, that's fine," Anko interjected nonchalantly. To her, his acceptance of her offer was always a forgone conclusion. "I guess I'll just have to take all those dangerous missions by myself."

Naruto's eyes lit up at that and both Sarutobi and Anko knew he'd swallowed the proverbial hook, line and sinker.

Before Naruto could actually give his answer—which was little more than a formality by then—the office door was thrown open forcefully. The child on the other side admitted himself by commando rolling across the threshold and getting himself tangled in his ridiculously long scarf.

"Good grief," Sarutobi muttered while pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes. "Will it never end?"

"You won't get away this time, Banana—er, old geezer!" the boy shouted as he righted himself. "Prepare to die!"

The rubber band he attempted to flick at the Hokage got caught in the cross-breeze from the open windows and missed its target by a wide margin. When his preemptive strike failed, the manqué assassin then barrelled across the room towards his mark, completely ignoring the other two occupants—until Naruto slapped him in the back of the head on his way past. The runty intruder lost his balance, stumbled, got his feet tangled in his scarf and fell to the floor in a graceless heap. Again.

"So much for our would-be assassin," Anko said idly. She looked to Naruto. "Nice one. You just thwarted an attempt on the Hokage's life. Not bad for your first day."

"You!" the brat shouted after extricating himself. He righted himself for a second time and pointed an accusing finger at the blond who'd just blindsided him. "That was your fault! You hit me when I wasn't looking!"

"Sure did," Naruto confirmed unsympathetically. "Next time dodge, dumbass."

"Who're you calling dumbass, dumbass?!" the kid screeched obnoxiously. "If you're gonna get in my way, I'll kick your arse! I'll kick your dumb arse all over the place!"

"Try me," Naruto shot back. He mightn't have been much taller than the other kid but he was several times stronger and had no trouble lifting him off the ground by his shirt to stare him in the eye. "Dunno what the hell your problem is, shortstop, but you're already pissing me off!"

Seeing it for himself, Naruto wasn't entirely sure he liked the similarities between himself and this little snot.

"Let me go, you jerkoff! I'll kill you!"

"Well that escalated quickly," Anko noted from the sidelines.

Such was the scene Ebisu stumbled upon in pursuit of his elusive quarry. The tokubetsu jonin and elite tutor zeroed in on the village troublemaker manhandling his charge and felt his own self-righteous anger bubble up.

"What in Heaven's name is going on here?!" he called out uppishly. "Unhand the Hokage's grandson this instant, you ruffian!"

Naruto squinted at the little brat still in his grasp. "...The Hokage's grandson?"

"That's right!" The kid smirked challengingly. "But my _name _is Sarutobi Konohamaru!"

"...And?" Naruto asked blankly. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part but he felt like the little shit was daring him to slug him one. "You think I give a good goddamn who you are?! You wanna get smacked again?!"

"How dare you?!" the tokujo spluttered indignantly. "Do not lay a hand on the Honourable Grandson!"

"If the brat can't handle a good whack or two, he's got no business being a ninja," Anko piped up.

That was a shinobido truism that even Naruto knew but he was still surprised to hear someone back him up—most people tended to disagree with him on principle.

"And what are you doing here, Mitarashi?" Ebisu asked haughtily.

"My _student_ and I were in the middle of a meeting with Hokage-sama," Anko replied, smiling dangerously. "Kid barges in making empty threats, harping on about murdering the Hokage. Pretty dangerous—you know how high-strung some ninja are."

"The Honourable Grandson is still under the mistaken impression that defeating the Hokage will allow him to usurp the position. He's not as diligent with his studies as he should be," Ebisu conceded, adjusting his sunglasses with his middle finger. "But that still does not justify him being molested by a roughneck hooligan!"

"Molested? Poor choice of words," Anko sneered. "...And did you just flip me off?"

"Regardless, perhaps you'd care to rein in your _student _before he scars the Honourable Grandson for life," Ebisu suggested sardonically, while pointedly ignoring her question. "He seems almost as sadistic as you."

"Long way to go yet but hope springs eternal," Anko said, taking it as a compliment when she knew it wasn't meant as such. "I'll get him there. On that day, I might even buy him a trenchcoat. All the best sadists wear trenchcoats."

True to form, Naruto was still doing his damnedest to traumatise the Hokage's shrimp of a grandson.

"Maybe I'll just drop your arse out the window instead!" he threatened, stalking over to the open window and bracing one foot against the sill as Konohamaru shrieked and struggled against him. "Do Honourable Grandchildren bounce, you think?!"

"Knock it off, Needle Noggin," Anko interceded before he could do any real damage. "There are other ways to learn about terminal velocity without killing small children. Let him go."

Naruto blinked owlishly.

"On the floor," she amended. "Not the window."

Naruto sighed dramatically and proceeded to unceremoniously dump Konohamaru on his backside.

Ebisu glared at him from behind his shades, either thinking it would go unnoticed or simply not caring. It was a look Naruto was all too familiar with: cold and hateful, as if the mere fact that he was still breathing was a crime against nature. It was a look the villagers of Konoha seemed to have perfected over the years. Just a day prior, Naruto would probably have responded with some sort of loud, unintelligible exclamation and then gone off to seethe somewhere. Knowing what he knew now, he stood his ground instead.

"Got something to say to me?" he asked, glaring back at the sententious ninja. "If you wanna pull faces, take off those stupid shades. It's not that bright in here."

Ebisu's only response was to snort derisively and push his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and, whether by design or not, flipping off everyone in the room as he did so.

"That will be quite enough out of all of you, thank you very much," the long-suffering Hokage spoke up. "Now, Naruto, we still need your answer. Can I make it official?"

Naruto, remembering what they'd been talking about, looked from Sarutobi to Anko then back to the old man. "Hell yeah, Old Man! I'm in!"

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it," the Sandaime said. "Anko is a tokubetsu jonin and one of the most skilled kunoichi in Konoha. Listen to her and learn from her, Naruto. See what she does and why she does it. Good luck—I'd say you both have your work cut out for you."

"Then by your leave, Hokage-sama," Anko said, standing at attention—a consummate professional when necessary.

"One last thing and I'll let you both be on your way," Sarutobi continued. He handed Naruto an overstuffed envelope from his desk drawer. "Remuneration for services rendered. All told, the mission parameters constituted an A-Rank and should therefore be paid accordingly. Not bad for your first mission, Naruto. That's going to look very impressive on your permanent record."

"Nice," Anko congratulated him, peeking over his shoulder. "Check out Moneybags here. I'll know who to hit up for a loan now."

"You're both dismissed," Sarutobi said finally.

Anko stood beside Naruto and bowed to the venerable Hokage. When her new pupil didn't mimic her—either out of irreverence, shock or stupidity—she reached over and clamped her hand down on the back of his neck, forcing him to bow at the waist and show the due respect.

"C'mon, Needle Noggin, we're burning daylight," she said, practically dragging Naruto away with her. "Give your heart and soul to the Corps, kiddo, 'cause your _arse_ is _mine_ now."

They ignored the awestruck Konohamaru and Ebisu—whatever he was—on the way out.

The Hokage watched the pair leave with a smile hidden behind his steepled hands. Sarutobi suspected that Anko's reasons for wanting to teach Naruto were seated in more personal issues but he hadn't felt the need to pry and open old wounds unnecessarily. Despite feigning nonchalance, the woman's argument was cogent—and more sympathetic than perhaps even she cared to realise—and it was nice to see someone taking a genuine interest in Konoha's resident pariah. He wondered what lengths she might have gone to if Naruto actually had been disbarred.

**II**

Sensei and student made their way through the busy streets of Konoha, Anko in the lead and Naruto—who was all but vibrating with excitement—following several paces behind. At the height of the day, Konoha's central business district was a veritable hive of activity; despite being a _ninja_ village, the Hidden Leaf had a large contingent of civilians, most of whom served a supplementary role in one trade or another—a village couldn't survive on pure military might alone.

Whether it was because he was in the company of a Konoha tokujo or simply because everyone was so busy—he didn't know or care—nobody seemed to pay him any real mind. Only the occasional layabout tried to make him drop dead with a nasty look but all he had to do was stare back, daring them to make something of it—they never did.

Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

"So... it's about that time," Anko said in front of him. "I'm hungry. You hungry?"

"I could eat," Naruto agreed.

"Sounds like a plan. What takes your fancy?"

"Oh oh, ramen! Ichiraku Ramen! Definitely ramen!" he exclaimed without pause. "I could murder a bowl of miso ramen right now!"

"Great!" Anko chirped. "Dango it is!"

"Huh?! But I just said—"

"I heard what you said," Anko interrupted him. "They heard you three blocks away. But since I'm paying, I say we're going to Dangoya. End of story. You'll be getting the next one so you can pick then."

"Why'd you even ask then?" Naruto huffed.

"That's your second lesson," Anko said over her shoulder. "All your opinions are invalid. Rejected!"

"Then what was the first lesson?" he queried. He didn't think he was so bad at retaining information as to have already forgotten. "...Hey! Whaddya mean _rejected_?!"

"I told ya, Needle Noggin," the purple-haired kunoichi said, spinning around to face her new student. "I am the Super, Sexy and Single Mitarashi Anko and henceforth, your arse belongs to _me_!"

Knowing it was an argument he hadn't a snowball's chance in hell of winning, Naruto sighed in defeat and allowed himself to be lead through the streets to their—apparently predetermined—destination: Dangoya.

Not surprisingly, Anko ordered the sweet mitarashi dango bearing her name whereas Naruto, preferring savouries and determined to get his protein from somewhere, ordered the nikudango meatball skewers. It was too early in the day to get loaded so Anko, who was footing the bill, instead got a pot of tea to share between them. The weather was nice enough that they could sit outside in the sun and talk without being eavesdropped upon by any nosy patrons.

"Alright, brat," Anko began after washing down another mouthful. "Let me explain how this is gonna work: normally after becoming a genin, you'd dick around for a week with an unjustified sense of accomplishment while the teams are formed. You and I are a special case, an exception to the rule if you like and I'm not gonna sit around wasting time—we start today."

With his mouth full, Naruto cocked his head in a silent question.

"You and I will eventually be taking missions together," Anko went on, "but not before I'm satisfied with your development. If we're going to work together effectively, I need to be able to trust you to pull your weight and frankly, right now, you suck and I wouldn't trust you to find a fuck in a whorehouse."

"Hey! Who the fu—"

"Shut up," she said flatly, cutting him off before he could start railing. "The truth hurts sometimes—deal with it."

Naruto glared impotently, which only caused Anko to smirk at him.

"Ah, don't sulk like that. It's not a good look on you," she said, her smirk widening into a full-blown grin. "C'mon, Needle Noggin, it'll be fun! You're a blank slate and I've always wanted someone I could mould in my own graven image!"

"I've got a name, ya know," Naruto huffed peevishly.

"Yeah, and if you survive your first month with me, I might even use it," she shot back, pointing at him with a half-finished skewer. "It'll be hell and you'll probably hate me for a while but you'll get over it... you might even thank me for it one day. So help me, I _will_ turn you into a real ninja or I'll kill you in the process... and that's my promise to you. Still up for it?"

Uzumaki Naruto could not and would not back down from a challenge. Vivid blue eyes locked with serpentine brown and he grinned defiantly. "Fuck yes."

"Attaboy. That's what I like to hear 'cause if I _wanted_ to train a pussy, I'd get a cat," Anko said. She then looked down at her crotch with an afterthought. "...Or take up ventriloquy."

They descended into a semi-companionable silence after that comment, with Anko giving Naruto time to ponder what he'd just agreed to. It was one of the basic tenets of psychological warfare: oftentimes it would be the waiting that would get to a prisoner as their imagination ran wild and by the time it came for them to be interrogated, they'd have more or less broken themselves. Anko was quite pleased to see that, if anything, Naruto only looked more eager—he was a fighter.

Anko finished her last dumpling and drained her teacup; the day would get away from them at the rate they were going. She stood and stretched her arms over her head with a moan that was far more sensual than was strictly necessary. Across from her, she noticed Naruto was attempting to avert his eyes but the colouration of his cheeks suggested that he'd copped an eyeful—as intended. Her bodysuit was designed for combat and thus didn't reveal any flesh but it did accentuate the curvature of her breasts _very_ nicely—and she knew it.

"See something you like, brat?" she murmured suggestively, leaning across the table between them and getting right up in his personal space. "Don't be shy now..."

In Naruto's mind, there was no correct answer. All he could manage was to cough and choke out something incoherent around a mouthful of masticated meatball as the mental imagery took roost. He chugged the last of his tea to clear the obstruction before he could asphyxiate.

"That is just fucking _adorable_," she laughed heartily. "Don't feel bad, brat! Food, explosions and tits: it's the puberty trifecta! Seriously, I'd be more concerned if you _didn't_ notice!"

"Are you trying to kill me?!" he wheezed. "...Crazy weirdo."

"If that's the worst thing that happens to you today, consider yourself lucky," Anko said with a dangerously mischievous glint in her eye. "Spoiler alert: it won't be the worst thing that happens to you today."

Naruto had no difficulty believing it.

"So, you done? Good." She moved around the table without waiting for a response and gave him a belated smack on the back. "First thing we gotta do is get you kitted out properly."

Theirs was still a tenuous relationship so she didn't give him _too_ hard a time over his unruly hormones—there would be plenty of time for that later. Just this once, she went easy on him; it was the only time she ever would.

**III**

Shopping was always something of an ordeal for Naruto. Many times he'd gone out needing supplies in one form or another and as if the scornful looks weren't bad enough, he'd often find himself having to deal with the humiliation of the proprietor pointing out the sign behind the counter reserving their right to refuse service (to demonic children). When they actually deigned to allow him service, he usually had to contend with hyperinflation, only for the market to bounce back as soon as the next customer came along. Things had gotten easier once he'd learned the _Henge no Jutsu_ and could alter his appearance but it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

His most recent endeavour had been just as much of an ordeal but that was mostly his own fault. Anko had dragged him along with a mental checklist of everything he'd need: top priority being a whole new wardrobe. He'd naturally protested and gone on to extol the virtues of the colour orange—Anko merely cited Lesson Two.

After their shopping spree—which had taken a sizeable bite out of his recent payday—they took a detour via his apartment so he could change and drop off his now-defunct gear. He re-emerged looking the part of a Konoha shinobi: he'd traded his beloved orange jumpsuit (under sufferance) for dark green flak armour in the ANBU pattern over a black tee, forest camouflage pants bound from knee to ankle with gaiters, a pair of shinguards and a new pair of black high-top sandals.

In a token display of rebellion, he also chose to wear a black and orange-patterned shemagh around his neck and he challenged his sensei to try and stop him—she didn't care enough to do so.

Sentimentality saw him keep his secondhand hitai-ate exactly as it was.

"Now you look like a proper ninja," Anko commented with an approving nod.

"Still don't see what the big effin' deal is," Naruto grumbled. "The whole reason I wear orange is _because_ you can't ignore it. It's an eye-catcher!"

"It's an eye_sore_," the kunoichi said flatly. "...And do I need to remind you of Lesson Two again?"

"This is a damn conspiracy!" he protested loudly. "You're wearing orange!"

"Yeah... and I'm also about a million times more skilled than you are," Anko replied easily. "If you wanna make yourself a target, you'd better be damn sure you've got the chops to handle all that attention. Otherwise you're nothing but a liability to yourself and your team. Could you handle it?"

Naruto's brow knit in thought and he scrunched his eyes closed habitually, considering the question. His first instinct was to say, 'hell yes and fuck you for suggesting otherwise', but he had to seriously consider what had happened to Iruka-sensei last night: he'd been injured because of him and his incompetence and could have been killed—that giant shuriken had struck deep and dangerously close to his spine—all because he'd had to jump in and save him.

"Don't get all introspective on me, brat," Anko said, derailing his train of thought before things could turn too morose. "If you don't wanna be the weakest link, get your arse in gear and follow me. Training starts now."

From his rundown penthouse suite, Anko led Naruto on a circuitous parkour chase across the rooftops. He followed after her, running, jumping, swinging, rolling, climbing and vaulting his way through Konoha's urban sprawl—everything was fair game as they turned the village into their playground. There was only one rule: no chakra augmentation of any sort.

Eventually she led him to the very outskirts of Konohagakure and Naruto found himself standing before a dark and inordinately large patch of forestry demarcated by a chain-link fence lined with razor wire. The air of foreboding and the various warning signs did not sit especially well with him.

Was that a skull and crossbones?

Naruto shifted his weight; partly out of the uneasy feeling he got from the forest and partly because he was still getting accustomed to his new wardrobe. In the end, he realised that pissing and moaning over something as petty as what clothes he wore was a decidedly childish thing to do. If he was going to take his career seriously, he supposed that accepting what his sensei was trying to tell him and understanding that she was helping him address one of his many shortcomings was a good place to start—no matter how bitter a pill it was to swallow.

He was determined to become a shinobi his parents would be proud of, one worthy of their legacy—he bet those jutsu scrolls of his father's would be totally badass.

"Pay attention, Needle Noggin."

Naruto stopped fidgeting with the combat knife duct-taped to one of his armour's shoulder straps and turned his undivided attention towards Anko. She had a strangely gleeful look about her that suggested things were soon to become very painful for him.

"So like I was saying before you decided to almost choke and die—"

"Because you had your melons in my face," he snarked.

"Well look whose balls just dropped. Anyway," she continued without missing a beat, "normally what'd happen is you'd be teamed with two other snot-nosed genin turds and made subordinate to a jonin—Konoha's got a real hard-on for teamwork. You'd go through the requisite platitudes, they'd screen you and if you passed muster, you'd spend the foreseeable future doing unskilled labour optimistically called D-Rank _missions_."

Anko made a contemptuous sucking noise against her teeth.

"Fuck that for a joke," she scoffed. "I'm sure as hell not wasting my time on that D-Rank shit; time spent on menial chores is time that could be better spent on getting you up to scratch so we can start taking _real_ missions. You'll probably have to do a few, though."

"Why?" Naruto asked incredulously. "You just got through talking about how crap they are!"

"Just one of the many joys of being a genin shit-kicker," Anko told him with an all too bright smile. "Everyone has to at some point and you gotta get paid somehow. You'll just have to find a way without it interfering with your training."

"And how the hell am I s'posed to do that?" he questioned irritably. "Be in two places at once?"

"Exactly," she agreed, as if it went without saying. "Just like a dead cat."

In one of his rare moments of clarity, Naruto smirked deviously. "If only there was a way for me to _clone_ myself..."

"If only... but since you _obviously_ can't do that, I guess you're just shit outta luck," Anko said knowingly, fairly impressed that he'd twigged so quickly. "Moving on! Usually, your jonin instructor would give your team some kind of test and if you couldn't hack it, it'd be back to the academy for all three of you—do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred ryo. We're gonna kick things off with a little survival exercise of our own."

"Been there, done that," the newly-minted genin said dismissively. "We did survival training in the academy."

"Nothing like this. I promise," Anko told him with a dark grin. She gestured towards the fenced-off forest before them. "This is Training Ground 44, colloquially and _very _fondly known as the Forest of Death. This'll be your home for the next month."

"Uh, sorry, I must have something crazy stuck in my ear," Naruto commented, picking his ear with his pinky finger. "A _month_?"

"Remember what I said about surviving your first month with me?"

"...You were being literal," Naruto realised.

"Goddamn right," she told him. All her airs of mordant humour were put aside and she looked him dead in the eye. "This first month won't even be training—it'll be _torture_. I won't fail you here, you'll fail yourself. I _will_ break you, over and over again. Whether or not you decide to come back stronger for it is up to you. A strong mind in a strong body is paramount. Scared yet?"

Naruto punched a fist into his open palm. "When do we start?"

"Right now," she told him, her approving smile quickly turning sadistic. "If you make it through, we'll be on our way to turning you from a dead-last dumbass into an S-Rank badass. Operative word being _if_."

The blond Jinchuriki wasn't deterred. With his eyes alight with excitement and his sharp and slightly elongated canines on display, his own smile looked quite vicious. "Uzumaki Naruto, S-Rank nin... I like the sound of that. It's got a nice ring to it."

Anko meandered over to the nearest gate in the fence and removed the heavy padlock. The gate swung open with a grating screech, prompting Naruto to wonder when this supposed training ground had last seen use: the whole area looked overgrown and some of the cautionary signage looked quite old and rusted. He was getting some seriously bad vibrations from that place.

"Then get your arse in there, brat. This is where it gets _fun_," Anko said, moving away from the entrance and jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Pretty much everything in there is either poisonous or carnivorous, usually both. The flytraps are man-eaters and you'll be lucky to have any _bones_ left after the mosquitoes are done with you. Everything's just bigger and better in the Forest of Death. You'll wanna keep an eye out for Omukade, too."

"...Who or what is Omukade?" Naruto asked, quite certain he wouldn't like the answer.

"Just a giant, man-eating centipede," Anko said flippantly, shrugging her shoulders. "But what you really need to watch out for are the triffids."

"...Alright, I'll bite," Naruto sighed. "What the hell are triffids?"

"You'll know 'em when you see 'em," she promised him. "Tall, mobile, carnivorous plants; they're highly venomous and breed like rabbits—you can't miss 'em."

"I call bullshit," he declared. He wasn't sure he believed his own bravado but he didn't want to give his sensei the satisfaction of knowing that—she'd been owning him from the moment they'd met. "Now you're just fucking with me."

No matter what he did, no matter what he said, Mitarashi Anko just found some new way to screw with him.

"Just fucking with you, am I? We'll see," she said with a throaty laugh that made Naruto shudder—and the reason was twofold, making him wonder if it was possible to be afraid and aroused at the same time. "Welcome to the jungle, brat. We've got fun and games."

Anko just loved it when a plan came together.


End file.
